Tags: @the-shewxlf, @megant22, @sexywolfsfordays, @houseofrahl, @sterek-basically, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @misshinehou, @unbreakablevoices, @champagneblues, @mixed-up-fangirl, @juliaspnlover, @cineyou, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @fallenangel-13x, @urwarriorangel, @bless-my-demons, @lunaskyhunter, @arkhamirwin, @fangirlnerd101, @m-a-t-91​, @meanwhilesmiley​, @edithambroreigns​, @from2016

Request: Hey! I love your stories and I’m so obsessed!! Lawful Tease is my fave ❤️ Could I request an imagine for Derek based on the song Toothbrush by DNCE? It can be like after they ‘did it’ ☺️ or something

Word count: 4521

Author’s note: This is my 600th post!! Woohooo! Also, I’m sorry I took so long to get this done, but at first, I didn’t even know how to write it – inserting lyrics randomly seemed like a bad idea, because that would have hauled out the reader from the story, so I settled for another idea. I hope it was worth the wait, though! Oh, and I added juuust a tiny little something to it :3

Warnings: occasional cuss

Betas: @i-am-a-misguided-misfit, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @mixed-up-fangirl, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @fallenangel-13x, @the-shewxlf, @b-chocolatelover, @from2016, @safiac


Your name: submit What is this?

I can only see outlines in the dark, can only let the deep rich woodsy scent of Derek’s skin engulf me, the sound of pelting rain knocking harshly against the window echo all over my ears and I yield to the warmth of the sculpted body I’m wrapped around, trying my best to put myself at ease and relax my muscles, give up the constant buzzing tension in them, but it won’t go away. It never goes away.

Derek and I have had this friends with benefits relationship for way too long, and I can’t take it any more. I need something to change, be it us start dating or end everything we have going on for once and for all. I began developing feelings for him not long after we first slept with each other, and ever since then, it’s been aggravating more and more.

Last night, before I came over to his place, I spent a great deal of time in front of my mirror, fingers gripping the edges of the washbasin underneath so hard that my knuckles turned white. My reflection’s eyes were boring into mine with determination twinkling in them as I was talking myself out of it, prevailing myself upon calling it enough and leaving for good. I planned not to come back once I step over that threshold once more.

I take a deep inhale of Derek’s musky redolence of cedar wood, allowing it to engulf me, to take over me, but only for a second, knowing more would be too much for me to handle, and the next moment, I’m sneaking out of his loose embrace, abandoning the comforting warmth of his masculine body. A modest shiver barrels through me as soon as my feet touch the cold ground for the first time, but I ignore it for the sake of collecting my garments, picking them off the floor one by one hastily, internally praying Derek won’t wake up until I’m already on my way to my apartment. The fact that tonight is a blustery one is a factor that aids my intentions of leaving him without his knowledge.

I get dressed in silence, drawing it out more than I’m supposed to, more than I want – unconsciously, I’m holding myself back, which I shouldn’t be doing. I slip the strap of my bag over my shoulder, pick up my shoes and tiptoe my way over to the entrance of Derek’s bedroom. However, I pause at the doorway, giving myself the privilege of seeing his calmly laying figure once more, taking it all in, etching it into the deepest depths of my memory to make sure I won’t forget it, not ever. I tamper down the overwhelming infatuation that’s threatening to take over me, but I don’t let myself to be stupefied by the mixture of emotions and the sight that Derek gives. I’m stronger than that.

I briefly contemplate writing a short message to him, but I decide against it – if I waste time on telling Derek how much I enjoyed it all, he will have a loophole where he could sneak back into my life, and I would be the one who handed over the map to him. I’m not intend to ruin my plans in the last minute, so shaking my head, I turn to waddle down the stairs and do the last touches on myself to make sure I have a presentable appearance, albeit this is the middle of the night and very few people will be roaming the streets, if any.

In the gargantuan living-room, I drop my bag on the lush black leather of the couch and slip into my shoes before I approach the bathroom to check myself in the mirror. I open the faucet and let out a long breath, eyes falling shut and a hand flying up to find my forehead, rubbing the skin there in annoyance and resentment, fingers tangling with locks of hair. Only then do I look at my reflection, seeing for the first time how horribly I look; my lips are chapped, my make-up has smudged, emphasizing the dark circles under my eyes, and my hair is so disarrayed it gives me the impression of a nest.

I scrub my face with soap and water until the last patches of chemicals are gone, and it’s just my bare skin with nothing covering it. I reach for the towel, revelling in the way the softly rough texture of it is grazing my skin and my eyes fall shut as I take a deep inhale of its rich scent – it has Derek’s. I stand there under the dim light, just letting memories and emotions wash over me and for God knows how many times, I question my resolve regarding leaving him forever. I’m aware it’s going to wear me out, it’s going to have a negative impact on me, and it will show on my performance at college and at work, but that’s okay, because I’m a grown-up woman now, who can deal with petty things such as men.

I can. I’m a big girl, and big girls don’t cry.

That’s why, I swallow back my tears, allowing them to suffocate me from the inside instead of letting them out, and with a stinging ache in my chest, I hang the towel back on the tag on the tiled wall. The soles of my shoes are knocking against the hardwood floor in hushed noises as I turn around to glance outside, immediately regretting not packing my umbrella when I left home yesterday. The weather is just as gloomy outdoors as I am internally; I can already feel the shrill fingers of dark depression encircling my throat, swooping me again just like years ago, from which Derek was my saviour, my only source of light. And yet, now I’m saying goodbye to it all without his knowledge.

Guilt takes over me then, but I swat it down and order myself to hold on to my last fraction of pride at least until I close the front door of my loft behind my back. I steel myself for what is ahead, for leaving Derek’s place ultimately, and that helps, because now I’m able to face the bathroom door and open it, leaving for the living-room where my stuff is still awaiting me.

What I’m not expecting is to see Derek’s sturdy figure there, standing in front of the couch with my bag dangling on his thick digits, an obvious question clearly written on his face as he’s eyeing me intently with an arched brow. He pointedly stays quiet, and I know it’s because he’s expecting me to break the silence finally, but I can’t find it in me to comply just yet.

My mind is running a mile a minute as to what option to go with in this scenario, but it’s hard to rationalise when I’m unable to tear my gaze away from Derek’s muscular shape. Its hard edges are glowing in the faintest light that’s streaming in through the loudly knocking windows from outside, sharp collarbones and mounds of bulging muscles highlighted, chiselled jaw and cheekbones also, mossy eyes given just an edge of pale grey twinkle, albeit the other side of his iris is now a deep emerald instead of the usual minty forest green. The smattering of five o’clock shadow that’s covering half of his face makes my palms itch with the desire to touch them, to run my hands over it and feel its roughness under my fingertips, but I scavenge those thoughts out of my mind. I need to focus here.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” I begin in the end, sentence evasive, dancing around the elephant in the room, ignoring it altogether. I try to act cool as I start approaching him, but my knees are wobbly like jelly. I fear they might not be able to accommodate my weight and I’d collapse any second. Derek is unflinching and motionless like a statue, sculpted body not moving an inch either away or closer, his eyes still boring into me, scorching two holes into my skull, singeing my brain. I’m thinking about a pointless spiel that I could use to chicken out, but I know I can’t bullshit Derek – he’s smarter than that, even without his supernatural skills taken into account.

Although I can’t see myself, I know my gait is taut and calculated, too strategic for it to be called natural, giving away to Derek the fact that I’m hiding something like a bad girl whose father tanned her hide so good she’s too petrified to look anyone in the eye. As it is to be expected, I look anywhere in the room but into Derek’s searching gaze, never quite meeting his eyes even when mine are close to his – they always halt in the line of the tip of his nose.

“Why are you up so early?” he asks, voice still riddled with sleep. Apparently he isn’t letting me off the hook so easily, for him asking me about the cause for my being up midnight, not where I’m going, albeit it’s child’s play to tell I was about to leave without saying a word.

I chew on the inside of my mouth before my lips part to offer an explanation to him, “I just… couldn’t sleep. I woke up and I figured I’d just go home.” This isn’t an entire lie, so there shouldn’t have been any upticks in my heartbeat while I was speaking. However, by the way his eyebrows crease, I can tell he sensed that I didn’t clue him in to the entire truth. In between his eyebrows, two small, shallow dips cast concerned shadows.

“You could have told me,” he points out, tone just this side of accusing. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s rebuking me in the most tender way possible. He never gives up on trying to connect our gazes and lock them together. “You could have just waken me up and we could have done something.”

“Like what?” I ask, deciding it will be a perfect opportunity for me to flee and keep avoiding the actual reason I’m up and dressed. But Derek refuses to answer me, so I know it’s either going on along the thread that he’s just offered up, or deciding to simply say goodbye, which would be too tacky for my taste, and also not fair with him now that he’s awake as well. I drag my tongue along my bottom lip in brief contemplation before bridging the distance between us and reaching for my bag, but Derek yanks his hand away.

“Like talk about it,” he utters, yet his voice is stronger than his drowsy state would lead me to believe is possible. It’s more stern and rigid, so much in fact that I have to stifle the whole-bodily shiver that demands to zap me. I refuse to back off, but I still can’t look him in the eye either. It would hurt too much, would hurt to read his emotions like I’ve gotten accustomed to doing after a long journey of self-teaching.

I’m at a loss of ideas of what to do, but what is unforeseen for me is for Derek to drop my bag on the couch and snake his strong arm around my waist instead, pulling me flush to his front with the careless force of his sinewy forearm, moving me with such ease as though I weighed little to nothing. He noses at the rapidly pulsing vein along the column of my throat as he whispers, hot breath licking over my skin so torching that this time, I just can’t help the shudder no matter how hard I’m trying to suppress it, “Why did you want to leave?”

Still avoiding giving a straightforward answer, I slide my hands on his pectorals in an attempt to push him away from me meekly, to try to give myself some room to breathe, to think, to organise my thoughts that are all over the floor now and need rearranging. He budges, albeit only after a pause of consideration that remains hanging in the air between us like a mute question of concern that he hasn’t asked yet. It’s just a matter of time, though, for him to change that.

When I try to take a step back, he flexes his muscles in his arms to prevent me from doing so, and there’s not much I could do against werewolves and their abilities, especially when the werewolf in question is an Alpha.

“Don’t leave,” he implores, with just an edge of urgency, yet with overwhelming earnestness. He ducks his head to improve his chances of finding my gaze, but I avert it lower and fix it on the ground, like his bare feet were the most interesting things I have ever seen under the Sun.

I shake my head, movements tight, and Derek’s fingers ball up a fistful of my shirt at my denial over the small of my back where he has his hand splayed, keeping me close to him.

“Why is it so urgent that you left now?” he keeps asking, words spoken in tow, and all I want is to leave, to leave this behind me and clunk out on my bed, hug my pillow to my face and let myself cry into it until I don’t have voice any more, and I can’t see anything through my puffed up, red-rimmed eyes that are brimming with salty tears on end. I want to drown myself in my sorrow and my tears while the silence around me is eating me away, my mind slowly sinking into the deep dark well of depression.

If I’m not mistaken, I heard the faintest ring of fear in his voice, and that’s enough for me to involuntarily make eye contact with him – I’m immediately faced with his emotions, with the way he’s looking at me like I hung the moon and the stars, and I know without a doubt he’s drawn to me like a moth to a flame. I just can’t put my finger on why this is – is it because of the physical relationship we had going on, or is it something else? Could it be because he’s attracted to me and not just my body? Could he really like my mind just as much?

“(Y/N),” he gravels out, tone so melodic and appraising that my heart is this close to melting in my chest and my knees nearly give out under my weight. The fact that his other hand is now smoothing over my nape, messing with tresses of my hair registers after a small lapse, and I can’t do anything beyond basking at the affectionate beam that his hazel eyes cast at me, engulfing my entire being in a golden, fuzzy hot feeling that I can’t pinpoint nor put a name to.

But I have to stop. I can’t let him drag me back.

“No,” I say, craning my neck when he leans in to stake his claim by locking our lips together. He relinquishes without missing a beat, and my heart breaks just a little at his measured movements. They are suddenly tight, and anxiety is pouring off of his figure that I can sense perfectly clearly even with my dull human senses. “I have to go home.”

“I don’t want you to,” he says genuinely, flexing his grip on me, but not pulling me any closer to him. He just holds me there, makes sure I don’t have any chance to move away. He whispers into my temple meekly, “Come back to bed with me instead.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower to refuse his offer, what with the abundance of images invading my mind – him looming over me, looking back into my eyes with this deep, hazy gaze like he’s lost inside me, him smoothing his broad palm over my side while we’re laying next to each other, face to face, him kissing me gingerly for the first time and lowering me down on the mattress meekly…

I shake my head. I don’t know how, but I manage to curl the corners of my mouth upwards, even if it doesn’t feel right, and it’s extremely hard to maintain the disguise of eased bliss, but I force myself to do it to reassure him I’m okay.

“I – I’m going,” I assert, trying my best to sound determined and stern. Derek loosens his fingers, and I know I’m free to go now. I squeeze pass him between his body and the coffee table to snatch my bag from the couch before smiling at him briefly once more, for the last time. My fingers are gripping the strap so hard I can feel my nails sink into the heel of my hand. I utter quietly, “Bye, Derek” before I swirl around and march towards the heavy metal door, attempting to leave as fast as possible before I’d change my mind.

“I’ll call you later,” Derek promises. I halt, and without turning back, I tell him, “You don’t have to.”

After then, I only have time to take two more steps in the direction of the exit before a crushing hotness curls around my wrist and yanks me back by my hand. I want to ask what has happened, but I’m muted by Derek’s lips on mine, and no matter how much I want to gasp for air, he doesn’t pause even for a moment, and in no time, I find myself pinned to the chilly wall. My mind is reeling with the intensity of the rapacious kiss, the passion Derek puts into this one single gesture making me dizzy and drunk on the lust.

He retreats God knows how much time later – it could have been a minute, an hour, or just ten seconds, I wouldn’t be able to tell –, only to ask me between heavy breaths, “Why wouldn’t I have to call?”

I can’t answer, my brain is all over the floor at the moment. All I can think about is wanting his mouth against mine again, wanting his calloused hands touching every inch of my skin, wanting his voice in my ear whispering encouragement to me, assuring me I’m beautiful and perfect and the best thing that has ever happened to him in his life before he comes with a sensual, wanton grunt of my name.

This is torture.

His lips are grazing mine in a tempting tease as he’s talking. He’s doing this deliberately – he knows I have a hardship thinking straight when he’s so close to me. Involuntarily, I jerk my face towards his as my arms slide from his chest to wrap around his neck, doing my best to pull him down to me to earn another kiss, but… he’s queering me. I stop myself before I’d do something stupid, and my hands find his instead to pry them off of me.

“I don’t want you to call, because I don’t want this any more,” I answer. Hearing that, he lets go of me on his own accord, without me having to uncurl his fingers from around the fabric of my clothes. His features are morphed into a shocked expression when I chance a glance up at him, and the sight twists my heart.

“W-why not?” he gravels out, tone tight, urgent, pleading, throat apparently dry. “Wasn’t it good? Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head and offer him a tight smile. “No, none of that. It’s… it’s me. My fault. It has nothing to do with you, don’t worry.” I crane my neck to glance at the metal door on top of the short staircase that leads to the exit, but Derek curls his fingers under my chin to gain my undivided attention back.

“Then what’s the problem?” he asks, and the soft gentleness of his tone warms up my insides fuzzily, nicely. I resist the shiver that wants to outcrop and take over me for brief seconds, but I do my best not to give in to it; rather, I swipe those thoughts away and replace them with the icy reminder of why all this is wrong, why I have to leave, why I can’t bare to keep doing this with him.

I shake my head, remaining mute.

“Baby?” he whispers sparsely, barely audibly, and I want to die just a little. This is too much, I can’t take him addressing me by pet names – it makes me feel wanted, appreciated and cared for. But those aren’t included in what we have going on, because I’m not his girlfriend, just his fuckbuddy. “Talk to me. Please?” Derek pleads, throwing me for a loop. I have never in my life heard him implore anyone, and we’ve known each other for several years now. He takes my face between his hands gingerly, cupping my cheeks and rubbing soothing circles into my zygomas with the calloused pads of his thumbs.

Before I realise it, my tears are flowing down in rivulets, wetting my skin and Derek’s fingers. He pulls me in to him and wraps me in a firm embrace, as though wanting to protect me, cooing into my temple and ear in a meek, low voice, massaging my scalp and nape to help me settle faster. I, on the other hand, shamelessly bury my nose into his bare, hefty chest, burrowing as deep into the dips and mounds of his brawny figure as I possibly can, wailing like a baby, weeping so hard that the inhales I take are strangling me, squeezing my windpipe tightly.

“Hey, (Y/N), honey, it’s okay,” Derek assures as if to remind me I still have him, but that only makes me cry harder. That’s exactly my problem after all – all I need right now is to be as far away from him as possible. But it’s never mind now, because I wasn’t able to keep that last fraction of dignity I craved. Derek took everything away from me, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell, which isn’t even worthy of being the shadow of my past self.

My past self wouldn’t have let herself grow so attached to anyone – especially not to a man – to not be able to let go. This is among the things that has always frightened me the most; to love someone so much that I make them my everything, and when it’s time for farewell, I loose my entire world with that person. But it happened without my knowledge with Derek, without my consent, and I failed to realise it until now. The longer I stay and allow this to be dragged out, the harder it’s going to be for me.

That’s why, I place my palms on his chest and put weak pressure against him. Derek immediately budges, and without thinking, I step to the side, attempting to make a beeline for the door, but he catches my wrist. His hold is barely there, and I could yank my hand out if I wished to, but I can’t find it in me to do it. Why does he want me to stay so bad? Why can’t he let go of me?

“Why are you leaving?” he asks hoarsely. Evidently, there is desperation in his tone, but I etch it up to my mind playing tricks on me, making me see things that aren’t there.

“You can find someone else,” I point out, hiccuping and stumbling on nearly every word I squeeze out between heavy intakes of air. I’m still choking on my tears. His grip goes tighter around me, just by a whisper, but that’s enough to make me bite down harshly on my bottom lip to stifle the wheeze that demands to rip out of my mouth.

“That’s not what I asked,” Derek says. I shrink just a little, ducking my head lower and pulling my shoulders up, trying to curl up into a tiny ball. “Why are you leaving?” he repeats, this time with a touch of authority seeping into his tone, too.

I take a deep breath before giving him a straightforward answer, “I told you the issue is me. I’m the piece that doesn’t fit here. I want more, so… I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

There is a pause, and I feel like the air and time has frozen. The silence keeps stretching, uncomfortably so, putting me at unease and tossing me back into dark anxiety. My heart begins throwing itself rapidly against my ribcage, my breathing elevates, and I proceed to escape once more, wrenching my wrist out of Derek’s hand and starting towards the door, but the second my fingers curl around the handle, a hard force turns me around, pins me against the metal and then there is nothing I sense but hotness claiming my lips.

Derek kisses me with so much passion that my legs give out, and I would have collapsed if it weren’t for his hands resting on my hips, pulling me flush to him and keeping me there. Derek kisses me with fervour, kisses me breathless, kisses me until my brain is deprived of oxygen and I’m dizzy with it.

When he finally retreats from me, he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed and mouth agape, heaving after his impassioned gesture. He whispers, “Thank God.”

“W-what?” I croak out, utterly discombobulated. He titters breathlessly, cupping my cheek in one hand once again, replying, “It was getting harder for me too, you know.” He pecks my lips and stays there, with the tips of our noses brushing lightly as he goes on, “You see, it’s been more for me, too, for a while now. I thought the physicality was enough for you, and I thought, why not keep you chained to me like that. It was selfish, I know, but I didn’t care.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I utter, raking my fingers through his dishevelled bed-head.

He chortles quietly, but there is a bittersweet undertone to it this time. “Because no one is stupid enough to be my partner.”

“Well, I guess I’ll happily volunteer for the stupid title if that means we stay together as a couple,” I tell him, only half joking in an attempt to cheer him up. If anything, I don’t want him to be sad any more, I want Derek to leave the sorrow of the past behind him, because that’s what he deserves. He deserves to find happiness.

He laughs wholeheartedly at my comment, the sound of it leaving a pleasant buzz inside me, making me crave more of it, and I instantly know one of my goals in life is going to be to make Derek laugh as many times as possible, because that’s a tune to be cherished and savoured for a lifetime. His hazel eyes are sparkling with pure bliss as he looks back into mine, that small smile still playing at the corners of his mouth before he touches his plush lips to my mouth softly.

WELL F UCK GUESS WHO’S BACK AFTER NOT DRAWING HIM FOR 5 YEARS (don’t even act surprised, you knew sooner or later i’d do this)

anonymous asked:

I suppose I stumbled into another, alternate universe...where I'm from, Alexander is my fiance. *Pulls other Alexander from the alternate universe* Is there you two want to tell? *crosses arms over her old fashioned dress*

good luck getting him back thru that portal

(Another continuation to the project all nighter: http://typicalmbticonversations.tumblr.com/post/144989457204/intp-and-infp-up-late-at-night-intp-is-finishing and http://typicalmbticonversations.tumblr.com/post/144705477203/istp-why-are-you-two-still-awake-intp-well-you)

INTP: *gets nothing done* I deserve a thirty minute break!
INTP: *30 minutes later* I deserve another break! Gotta keep my brain working
ENTP: *eating popcorn*

there-is-light-i-promise asked:

Ice mechanic + soulmates would be something I would die for!

Raven was twelve when it appeared— a small snowflake on the underside of her left wrist.  

“It’s your soulmark,” Finn explained the next day.  “It represents your soulmate.”  She usually turned to Finn about matters like this, her mother being mostly useless.  He was younger than her, but much more knowledgeable about the world.   That’s what happened when you had parents who paid attention to you.

“How am I supposed to know who it is?  Will he have the same one?” she asked.

“No, he’ll have one that represents you.”  Finn chucked a rock as far as he could into the river, and Raven hugged her knees to her chest.

“That’s stupid,” she said.  “This could mean anything.”

“That’s what’s so cool— you get to figure out who your soulmate is, and this just…helps you along.”

“Do you have one?”

“Not yet,” Finn replied, his jaw tight.

For years, Raven tried to figure out what the snowflake meant.  She wanted it to mean Finn, but it never quite fit.  Finn was a warm summer day, not a winter storm.  There was nothing cold about him, nothing frozen— not even when he broke her heart.

After Finn and Wick, she stopped caring.  A soulmark only meant as much as you wanted it to, she decided, and she wasn’t going to let some hazy system of predestination rule her life.  She was Raven Fucking Reyes, goddammit, and she wasn’t going to marry someone because a tattoo said so.  She moved on with her life, and it wasn’t until she was twenty six that she thought about it again.

He was some suit, part of a team that had acquired Sinclair’s biotech company.  They were touring the lab, taking stock of their new investment, and her eyes happened to catch his.

And suddenly…she knew.  He was ice, he was snow, he was a winter storm that buried you with its power.  Everything about him radiated a cold, controlled purpose, and she wondered what sort of sick joke the universe was playing on her.  If he was her soulmate, she wasn’t having it.

It took another two years before a company Christmas party ended with Raven sitting on a bathroom counter, Roan deep inside of her.  And it was only after that he showed her his soulmark.

A tiny gear, right on the inside of his left wrist.

Little + Promises

If you make a promise with a little never break it, okay? Littles don’t know how to handle broken promises. Some of us have had our little hearts broken because people have broken our promises. So when your little holds up their pinky and wants you to pinky promise, do it and never break it. Even the smallest, tiniest promise is important. Now, pinky promise me you won’t ever break a promise. Okay?

whotookmyusernameidea asked:

Demon dan AU Arin driving to get food and as he pulls up to the window dan pops in and says I WANT A BURGER AND FRIES and arins like FUCKIN DAN WHY ARE YOU HERE YOU CAN'T EVEN EAT JESUS CHRISTMAS DUDE , dans all pouty so arin gets him the food anyway

(your ideas are so fun to me! hope this suffices…)

Arin yawns as he begins to pull up to the window of the fast food joint he’d driven to straight from work. He’d had a long day, and honestly he was just tired and hungry, and he didn’t really care if he ended up shoving the most unhealthy shit into his body tonight. Surprisingly enough, Dan hadn’t made much of an appearance that day. Arin can’t help but wonder what he’s up to. What did demons even do in their free time when they weren’t bothering people? Did they just like hang out in hell or something? Count the souls they’ve collected? Arin would have to ask Dan about that at some point.

He greets the person through the intercom, and his eyes scan over the menu to see what he could order that wouldn’t make him regret his choices in life.

“I WANT A BURGER AND FRIES!” Dan shouts after a moment, chiming in from where he’s sitting in the backseat, long legs crossed, and Arin nods.

“Okay, can I have a burger and wait a minute–” Arin swiftly turns around in his seat to look back at Dan, eyebrows furrowed. He’s honestly surprised at the sight of him. The demon was smirking in pure amusement at Arin’s shock, head tilted slightly. Besides that particular day, Dan had been popping in more and more lately, showing his face mostly to annoy Arin and cause some sort of trouble, though he was usually pretty playful, and days when he just didn’t come at all felt…weird.

However, that doesn’t change the absurdity of his request. Arin has to give Dan serious credit, he already feels done with his shit, and Dan had barely even opened his mouth.

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